


I: Invistigation

by brokxnharry



Series: Teen Wolf A-Z Challenge (with songs) [9]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Cora Hale, Alpha Derek Hale, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Cora Hale & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, M/M, Post Hale Fire, Season/Series 03 Spoilers, Sheriff Stilinski Finds Out About Werewolves, Stiles Has Panic Attacks, melissa is a great parent, sterek angst and fluff, the sheriff is sad and afraid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-09 02:14:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11659509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokxnharry/pseuds/brokxnharry
Summary: Someone dies and all the evidence points to Stiles. The Sheriff doesn't know what to believe, when his son only tells him lies upon lies.





	I: Invistigation

**Author's Note:**

> Song: In a week - Hozier

The sheriff's key was moving through the lock, his hands trembling, almost pulling the key back, almost breaking it in the lock and just leaving it there. His eyes were following the movement of his hands, his chest aching with something that felt like heartache. The key turned, the locking falling where it was supposed to, and the sheriff had to push away, had to will his fingers to let go of the bars, of what was behind them.

He breathed out, and it caught somewhere in his throat, breaking somewhere between his lips. His eyes were desperate for another look, another frame of the person who meant most to him, before everything he held of him, shattered away. Stiles was sitting by the wall furthest away from the bars, hands no longer cuffed together, but his figure remained still. Too still for it to be anything like Stiles. And the sheriff wondered, if his son was dead in there somewhere. If something had taken over his body. He almost laughed at how that seemed to be the more comforting option, how he was hoping that something was doing this, and that his son would come out of it, or it, out of him, and none of this would be happening.

" Stiles, just. I'm giving you one more chance. I'll take you back to the interrogation room, and we'll talk. I need you to tell me who did this. Tell me who it was and I'll believe you. Whatever you say, I'll take. Just."

" I'm sorry, dad." The sheriff nodded, pushing it all down, hiding it away, as he patted the bars, almost in goodbye, before walking away. He didn't bother to turn back, didn't want to see any more of his son, that he'd have to leave behind. He felt heavy and suffocated, opening one of the buttons in his shirt, to ease the grasp around his throat, stop feeling so claustrophobic in his own skin.

He thought he heard someone calling for him, thought he heard someone saying Stiles' name, but he pushed past the door to his office, slamming it shut, before he collapsed into his chair, head resting against his desk, hands still shaking, aching for one more touch, itching for his son.

" Sheriff,"

" Not now. Whatever it is, I don't want to hear it."

" You're putting Stiles in a cell? What the hell, Sheriff?"

He hit his hands against the desk, rising to his feet, and almost reaching for his gun. Rage was filling all the cracks forming within him, saturating every pore. And Derek was standing there, arms by his side, looking as tired down as the Sheriff felt, fueled by something that was almost as blind as the sheriff's rage, almost as unkind. The sheriff tried to be more graceful, more collected, as he fell back into his chair, collecting the papers spread out across his desk, putting them back into their files. He had to bury his hands somewhere to keep them from trembling. Had to focus on something other than the thought of losing his son, of seeing his wife again and telling her that he couldn't do it, that he'd let him waste away, that he wasn't the man she needed him to be, wasn't the man she once fell in love with.

" He didn't do it, sheriff. You know Stiles. He wouldn't do something like that." Derek pushed on, the scent of pure misery suffocating the breath out of him. And he wondered how the sheriff could mask all that, could morph it into a bitter sense of nonchalance, of professionalism with a hint of despise.

" His prints were on the body. He had no alibi. There were traces of blood on his shirt. There's nothing I can do for him now."

" Stiles isn't a murderer. You can't tell me you don't know that. You can't tell me you believe-"

" I don't know what he is or isn't anymore. I don't know what to believe. What I do know is that I called him that night, and he didn't pick up. I left him more than 15 messages. I almost sent a force looking for him. What I do know is that he didn't come home till almost 5am. And he went to his room, and didn't say a word to me. Didn't think I deserved an explanation or an apology, or, **_anything_**. Didn't even look my way. I heard the shower running that day. He didn't let me do his laundry. I don't know my son, Derek. I- I begged him to tell me the truth, to just, talk to me, give me anything, but. There's nothing there of him. I don't know who that is, I don't know what he did or didn't do, but it feels like I'm losing Stiles. Like I've already lost him and. God."

All the rage had slipped away, all the bitterness and disappointment had scurried, seeking an escape, somewhere to hide from the pieces of his heart that were falling away, plummeting to the pit of dread in his stomach, of pent up grief, and aching loss. The sheriff deflated, choked on something that could have been a sob, if he'd let it. His hands were almost tearing through the picture of the last victim, nails whitening with how hard he tried to hold on, to something, to anything, that didn't look like his little boy, fading away.

Derek laid a hand over the sheriff's, letting him hold onto that instead, as he carefully took the papers away, pushed them aside, leaning in so that he had his elbows on the desk. He sighed, trying to breathe around the stench of helplessness, of pain, of loss, that Derek was almost always finding in the folds of his life, coating everyone he'd ever come close to.

" You didn't lose him. Stiles is a good kid, sheriff. And he didn't do this."

" How can you be so sure?"

" I can't tell you much, but-" The sheriff groaned, pulling away, his hands in the air, like he couldn't bear to be touched. Couldn't feel any weight against his skin that wasn't his son's. Couldn't hold onto someone else, when he was still trying to let go of Stiles, when the print of his hand was still burning through him.

" Sir, remember the, uh, the Hale fire? That night, you were one of the officers called in. Everyone was moving the," Bile was crawling up his throat, that tasted of his mother's favorite dish, but like she'd left it in the oven for too long, like it was burned and inedible. He breathed through it, tried to cling to the sheriff's misery, instead of his own. " Moving the bodies, collecting evidence, trying to see if it was an accident, or if it'd been done on purpose. And. You came to me and Laura and- she wasn't speaking then. I don't think I was either. But, you hugged me, buried my face into your shoulder, until that was all I could smell, instead of, everything else. You put us in your car and braided Laura's hair, telling her how your wife had taught you, although you only had a son. And when she- when she broke down, and couldn't really stop, you didn't leave. You didn't know what you were doing, but you had this instinct, to just be there. And you were. I don't know if you remember, if,"

" I remember. It was my first big case on the force. And it was.. horrible. Took me a while to shake that one off."

" Yeah. You spent the night with us at the children services' office. And when you thought we'd fallen asleep, you called Stiles. You told him you loved him, and- I don't know what he said back, but you cried. You didn't know I could hear you. I never told him about this either, but, I woke up, and you were holding onto me. I think it was because you were missing him, terrified that something like this could happen to him too, and. I think, what happened, altered me, turned me into... this. I also think that you, being there, sculptured Stiles into what he is. And I think that what he is, is great. Better than most."

The sheriff was looking at Derek, with that glint in his eyes, that made him feel so small. So weak against the waves of agony crashing onto him, drowning him, that to this day, he still couldn't breathe quite right. But Derek could remember how he'd looked at him that night, how his eyes had looked and felt, and how he'd wanted to drown into them instead. Although, they were older now, and they'd seen a lot more, the kindness in them was still overwhelming all else.

" Thank you, Derek. I. I don't really know why you're doing this, but. Yeah. You're one of the good ones. I always thought that. Murder charges or not, I still believe that." The sheriff tried to smile, and although, it looked more pained than anything, Derek returned it, nodding his head, clearing his throat so that nothing too broken up would come out.

" Can I see him? I might be able to get him to talk." The sheriff's eyebrows furrowed, his features going stoic again, but he sighed, nodded, rubbing his raw eyes tiredly.

" Tell him… I don't know. Tell him that for all his fussing about my food, he's going to be the one to give me another heart attack." The sheriff let out an almost breathless chuckle, but Derek allowed his smile to widen, appreciating the lightness he was trying to insert, with everything else feeling so fucking heavy.

" Parrish, take Mr. Hale to cell number 4, and leave him to it. I have some paperwork to get through." The sheriff disappeared back into his office, his shoulders hunched, buried under the weight of his mere existence. Derek followed behind Parrish, who patted his back encouragingly, telling him that he'd be close by, if he needed him, before walking away.

Stiles was laying down, eyes casted upon the ceiling, hands crossed against his chest, rising every time his chest expanded with an inhale, falling a bit too soon. Derek could smell something horrible, that felt wrong, like it was never meant to be anywhere near Stiles. Stiles tilted his head to the side, barely taking in Derek, before he looked away again. So motionless and expressionless and silent. Everything that Stiles never was.

" How is Cora?" Stiles questioned, as Derek sat on the lone, abandoned chair.

" Better. She asked about you. Wanted to thank you. Said something about you kissing her." Stiles snorted and Derek's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, because Stiles' laugh had never sounded like that. He didn't know Stiles could make that sound, let alone make it seem so.. carved out.

" I'm flattered, but it was just CPR. Glad to hear she still has her humor on her though." Derek nodded, gratitude surging through him, pushing the despair aside.

" Yeah. Me too."

It was silent then, except for the breath that Stiles was visibly trying to manner, his legs bouncing, hitting against the metal seat occasionally. Derek watched his eyes close, lips tremble ever so slightly, every time Stiles tried to exhale, and it came out cracked. Derek didn't know what to say, didn't know if there was anything for him to say, that wouldn't intensify the scent of self-loathing coming off Stiles, that wouldn't break the dam Stiles had built around himself, to keep it all at bay.

" Why didn't you tell him you didn't do it? He would have believed you, you know."

" I didn't want to lie to him again."

" But you didn't do it, Stiles. You didn't kill him."

" No, I didn't. But I was there. And I can't explain that, without talking about the darach, and the alpha pack, and the impending doom that just, is always fucking there. And I can't do that. I won't do that to him." A single tear slid against the cheek that was closest to Derek, and he wanted to reach out and wipe it away. Wanted to hold him and take the pain he could smell away, replacing the doubt and uncertainty with knowing, with reassurance.

" But this isn't any better, Stiles. I know you're scared, and I know you want to protect him, but."

" No, you don't. When was the last time you ever wanted to protect someone? That was human and good hearted and selfless? That you knew would throw himself to hell, for you, and those you cared for? You don't know anything about this, Derek. So, just.. don't."

Derek swallowed away the jab at his lost family, at his lack of communication, and poor social skills. He was a big guy. He could take it. He could handle whatever this broken up, sad, version of Stiles threw at him, and he wouldn't hold it against him. He really wouldn't.

" Yes, I do. I used to be like that, with you. Sometimes, I still am."

" What?" More tears came, and Stiles was now looking right at him, almost, through him, and God, Derek thought it broke something in him. He couldn't be sure though.

" You think I wanted you this involved? You think I wanted Scott to be turned? Or any of them, for that matter? Stiles, every time we have to fight, I'm almost paralyzed by fear at the thought of having you there. Defenseless and so goddamn giving. I don't even know which way I need to throw myself, to catch whatever they're throwing at you. It's not easy. It's never going to be easy. But it's killing him, Stiles. I can see it. Can smell it on him. He.. he just wants his son back. And I don't want you to regret this one day. To- to think of what you could have done differently, how much time you'd wasted without him. And-"

Derek's stopped, eyes wide and fearful. He stood, trying to listen in, trying to hear what was happening outside, why it suddenly felt like something had gone horribly wrong, like that impending doom, was a bit closer now.

" What? What is it, Derek?" Stiles was now standing by the bars, holding onto them, like he'd break them, if he needed to. Derek looked between him, and the stairs that led away from him. His features crumbled onto themselves, face falling to pieces, before he could ever open his eyes, staring at Stiles with something like pity, like consolation.

" What's happening?" Stiles yelled, pulling at the bars now, without really knowing why.

" Your dad collapsed. He's breathing, but,"

" But what? Is he okay? Is he alive? Somebody get me the fuck out of here! Parrish! Guards! Dad! I need to see him, get me out." Stiles was hitting and kicking and screaming, willing anything to give, before he did. Derek ran up the stairs, throwing himself into the chaos. The sheriff's heartbeat was still strong, and present, and Derek held onto that, to keep moving. He found Scott, who'd only just gotten there, when he heard something falling in the sheriff's office. He called his mum who gave him a few instructions, promising she'd be right there.

" Where is Stiles? Is he alone down there?" Scott questioned, laying the sheriff down on the couch in his office, doing what his mother told him to, without really thinking much about it. Derek asked everybody else to clear, told Parrish to reassure Stiles that his dad was okay, that they'd give him the updates as soon as they knew anything.

Melissa got to the station barely half an hour later, going straight into the office, and checking the sheriff over. His blood pressure was dangerously high, body heated, like it was trying to sweat the heartbreak out. She gave him something to stabilize his blood pressure, connecting an IV to his arm, to keep him hydrated, before asking both Derek and Scott for the story, that they fearfully gave, sparing no details, unable to hold much in.

" Alright, Derek, come with me. Scott, you stay here with the sheriff, and send someone for me if anything changes, okay, kiddo?" He nodded, she leaned in, kissing the top of his head, knowing how freaked out he must be, with the only father figure he'd ever known, so suddenly ill, and his best friend held in a cell, with a murder over his head.

Derek followed after her, to where Parrish had previously guided him. Parrish was standing by the bars now, trying to calm the painfully anxious Stiles, who was on his knees, still hitting against the bars, chocking on his tears, or his panic.

" Stiles, honey, he's okay. Your dad is just fine." Stiles tried to stand at the sound of Melissa, and she tried to fall, and they ended up somewhere in between, with her hands through the bars, running her fingers through his hair, and him, crying into her hands.

" What is wrong with him? Was it his heart again?"

" No, no, his blood pressure was a bit high, but we're taking care of him, don't worry."

" Parrish won't let me out. I just want to see him, Ms. Mccall." Stiles whined miserably, trying to keep himself together, but it was all pouring right out of him. Melissa's eyes moved from Stiles, to the distressed Parrish, remaining kind and understanding, all through.

" He takes his orders from the sheriff, Stiles. And your dad can't really give many orders right now." A particularly broken apart sound went past Stiles, as he lost his breath, his heart hammering against Derek's ears, he feared his ear drums would tear.

" Stiles, just let me tell him the truth. Please. He needs to know that his son isn't spiraling, that he still has you, and that you want him. That you still need him." Derek came closer, but not as close as Melissa, who was nodding along.

" You can't. I don't want him to know. It's too much, too dangerous. I can't put him through that. No, Derek."

" You're underestimating your father, Stiles. He's stronger than you think, probably, stronger than he thinks of himself. And he deserves the truth from you."

" Ms. Mccall, you know him. You know how he gets. He'd want to save the world and everybody in it, and he won't understand that guns sometimes don't help, that they're stronger than him, and they can heal, and die and come back, and he **_can't_**. If he- oh God- if he dies, then that's it. He's gone too. I can't live with that. I'm sorry but I can't lose him." Stiles went to pull away, but Melissa held on, bringing him as close as the cell would allow him. Derek could tell how aggravated she was becoming, despite how patiently she spoke to Stiles.

" You think, him having to put you in a cell, working on a case that involves you as a suspect, watching you spend the rest of your life in jail, you think that won't drive him out of his mind? You think he can make it through that? It would kill him, Stiles."

Stiles shook his head, a shuddering breath breaking through him, as his eyes tiredly fell shut. Derek watched on, as Melissa tried to coax him into telling the truth, into easing his father's worries, and trusting him to handle it carefully, smartly. But he wasn't having it, every time his rejection came harsher, more horrified, like they couldn't possibly understand, like they were far too innocent to grasp the darkness of the thoughts that formed behind his eyelids, every time he thought of his father coming close to the world that Stiles most of the time, wanted to escape. Derek tried not to take offense, to contain Stiles' fears and doubts, but Stiles had never been cowardly before, so wrongfully stubborn, and it didn't sit well with Derek. He didn't like that on Stiles.

" Why are you being so hardheaded about this? We told Melissa. And Danny and Lydia and Allison. This isn't the first time we've trusted a human with this. And every single time, it's been well-worth it."

" He is **_my_** dad. Not yours." Stiles made it sound so unkind, so cruel, like he was intentionally poking where it hurt most.

" And they're **_my_** pack. So are you. I'll be damned if I let you risk all that, because you give yourself rights, that aren't your own." Derek groaned, grabbing Stiles by the collar of his shirt, hitting his chest against the bars, ignoring the flaring scent of ache, that slowly died down. Stiles pushed against him, offended and enraged. Derek let go, looking at Melissa who looked scared for them, more than anything.

" He's waking up. I'll be in his office." Derek announced, walking away, although, every one of Stiles' pleas, of his screams, hit against him, clawing at his will, breaking through his strength, that when he finally got to the sheriff's office, he almost didn't go in at all. But he heard Melissa, telling Stiles something about trusting Derek to do this the right way, that she didn't think Derek would do anything to harm him, or his father.

With that, Derek pushed through the door, helping the sheriff sit, explaining briefly what had happened. Melissa returned, checking and rechecking the sheriff's vitals, handing him something to eat and drink, before nodding to Derek, to go ahead, if he needed to. Scott sat next to his mum, silent and horrified, until Derek let his claws out, flashing his red eyes, and the sheriff pulled away so aggressively, he almost tore the IV out of his arm. Scott then moved almost to protect Derek, while Melissa eased the sheriff back into his seat. She took over from there, explaining how she'd found out, how Scott had been turned, telling him stories of near death experiences and so many bad guys that he'd known nothing about. He'd thought his son was doing something reckless and stupid but not deathly.

The sheriff realized how many times he'd come close to losing his son. Actually losing him, and it scared him half to death. But then Derek started talking about the current situation, how brave Stiles was, how strong he continued to be, despite his lack of supernatural powers, and Derek could smell the pride and love, covering everything else up. Scott shifted as well, when the sheriff asked him to, and they started talking of the extent of their powers, and the differences between banshees and werewolves and kanimas and darachs, that they knew very little about, but still. They gave him everything, and he took it like the champion they knew he was.

" Jesus Christ, Melissa, how did you do it?" He questioned, rubbing his hands against his face. Melissa laughed lightly, patting his back.

" They're the ones doing it, the least we could do is be there, really." Scott leaned into his mother, feeling so lucky that he ended up with her.

" Wait, so the fire? Your sister?" Derek's face fell, his heart skipping a beat or two, even after all this time.

" Not natural causes, sir, no." He left it at that, deciding that going into the depth of the darkness of his past, would do very little to aid the man understand. It would also not help with the grip he was trying to have on his composure.

" Oh, Derek," Derek felt the scent of sadness envelop him, for only a minute, before he cleared his throat, rising to his feet.

" We can discuss this further whenever you feel up for it. For now, I think you have a son to let out of that cell. I can still hear him, and you should probably get down there yourself, if you can." The sheriff nodded, a renewed sense of hope setting in, as Scott stood near, in case he was needed.

" You're not coming?" Derek was surprised to see the sheriff turning to ask him, a tearful smile forming on his lips, as he shook his head no. He didn't think Stiles would want him there.

" I better head home. My sister is still recovering. But you have my number, if you need anything. And Scott should be able to answer most of the questions you have."

" Sister? I thought.."

" That was Laura. This is Cora. We thought she was gone too, but she came back. Or, we got her back, after the Alpha pack had taken her. You know what, we'll explain everything later, now come on."

Scott guided the sheriff out of the office, along with Melissa, the sound of their laughter staying in the air, even after they'd left. Derek sighed, hearing something like why couldn't it be drugs, or porn, like normal teenagers. Melissa laughed more, Scott said something like _"oh sheriff, you think this compensates for porn?"_ , and the sheriff groaned something that sounded like one thing at a time. Derek carried that with him, until he was almost at his house, and it was quiet enough now, for Stiles' words to echo, to scream back at him, to push away every kind thing that Stiles had ever spoken to him. Derek almost had to put his hands over his ears, but it was roaring inside him, under his skin, and no matter how hard he clawed and itched, he couldn't get any of it, out.

When Stiles saw his father, walking down those stairs, something so raw and painful made its way past him, that he could feel it scratching against his throat, bleeding into the words he couldn't speak, as he fell into his father's arms, and just held on. Scott stood back, with an arm around his mother, as Stiles cried into his father, and the sheriff tried not to cry along. They ended up sitting on the bench Stiles laid against, needing the physical touch to ground themselves. The sheriff simply took his son in, like he was seeing him for the very first time. He apologized for not trusting him, for not seeing it earlier, for taking the bullshit lies he gave him, because it was easier than believing that there was something worse happening to his son. Stiles shook his head, crying out how much he loved him, promising that he wouldn't keep anything from him again. As long as the other promised to put himself first, at least sometimes. And the sheriff did.

Scott drove them home in Stiles' Jeep, Melissa following behind to take him along, after he'd left the Jeep. They stayed till they made sure the sheriff was stable, then Melissa went back to the hospital, and Scott went back home, to fill Isaac in. When they went to Derek's home, no one spoke of Stiles, or how Derek smelled and felt wrong, like he wasn't really himself.

The next day, the sheriff didn't go to work, stayed with Stiles, as he told him what happened with that murder, and everything leading up to it. The sheriff nodded, pulling his son back into his arms, finding comfort in how he could still fit. All his doubts faded away, all his worries silenced by the need in his son's touch, in his voice as he promised that he still loved him, that he was only trying to protect him, keep him away from danger, but then, kept him away from himself, without ever meaning to.

It took Stiles a week, to be pushed out of the house by his father, and forced to go see Derek. The weight on his chest hadn't let up since, and every time he closed his eyes, he saw Derek, staring at him like he was the last person he'd ever expected to crack him open, and let everything inside him, just bleed out. Stiles hated himself for it, but he was just so angry, terrified out of his mind. He was spiraling and didn't know what to do, other than grab at Derek, and take him with him.

When he was parked outside his loft, he couldn't bring himself to leave the car. He wanted to back out, wanted to drive away, until Derek had had enough time to heal, to forgive. But Cora was standing by the window, a single finger in the air, as she pointed at him to come in, get close. He sighed, dragging himself up the stairs, and she was waiting by the door, looking so much better than he'd last seen her, he almost forget she had been ill at all.

" You kiss a girl then never call or come by, I thought you were a gentleman, Stiles." She stepped back, letting him in. He wanted to laugh, but his fingers were fidgeting, cracking against each other, attempting to release any of the crippling anxiety collecting in his chest. She closed the door, wrapping her arms around his back, and despite her smaller size, he leaned into it, letting some of it go.

" Thank you, Stiles. You saved my life that night. But that doesn't mean you get to break my brother's heart, okay?" She pulled away, a threatening finger poking at his chest, before she hugged him again.

" I- I didn't mean, I- I'm sorry."

" I know, I know. He's in his room. I'll be in the kitchen."

Stiles barely made it up the stairs, before the door to Derek's room was opened, and he was standing there, looking frantic and hazy. Stiles screamed out, without really meaning to, his heart jumping to his throat, that he could have coughed it out, if he really tried to.

" Stiles," Derek breathed out or groaned out or hissed. Stiles could barely tell.

" What, what happened?" Cora came running, holding a pan in her hand, prepared to attack.

" You're a werewolf, Cora, and a pan is the first weapon you thought of?" Derek rolled his eyes, walking back into his room, but leaving the door opened. Stiles took that as a sign, following behind him, after nodding at Cora, who was whispering profanities under her breath, knowing that her brother would be able to hear them anyway.

" Were you, uh, running off somewhere? It looked like you were in a hurry." Stiles said, despising how shaky his voice was, how the tension in the air was so thick, deforming the conversation they could once hold.

" Doesn't matter." Derek said, his eyes on a map, spread out on his bed, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. He didn't know how to tell him that he'd smelled the rotten scent of anxiety and fear, and didn't think, before trying to find him, trying to make it better.

" If you're busy, I can, you know. Go. Come back later. Or, not. Whatever you want, I-" The words fell against his tongue, useless and unspoken, as he shook his head, breathing slowly.

" Is your dad okay now?" Derek asked instead, holding onto his own hands, so that they wouldn't reach out, and latch on, easing the tremble out of Stiles' body.

" Yeah. Yeah, he's good. He's.. great, actually. Yeah." Stiles smiled, and Derek almost did too, but something resurfaced at the back of his head, nagging, hitting against his skull, and it sounded how Stiles had, that day in the cell. Angry and hateful and- Derek didn't think he deserved that from Stiles.

Derek opened his eyes, thinking he'd never meant to have them closed, and Stiles was beside him now, closer than he'd remembered him to be, smelling so profusely of everything that Stiles had been to Derek, and he almost inhaled, and just let it sit there, not bothering with an exhale.

" I'm sorry, Derek. I'm **_sorry_**." Stiles sounded like he could cry. Derek nodded, swallowing past the words lumping in his throat, eyes not quite willing to take Stiles in yet.

" I just wish you knew I wouldn't do anything that might harm you, or your dad. I would never."

" I know that. I know, Derek. I just, felt so trapped in there, so helpless. It felt like I was losing control, and you had so much of that and I- I shouldn't have said what I said. And I'm sorry. You did the right thing."

" It probably wasn't my place. You were right too. He's your dad, not mine. I shouldn't have been the one to tell him. I just. I didn't want you to end up where I am. You think, if I- your dad was right there, Stiles. He was there and he just wanted you, he just wanted his son, and I- Goddammit. I don't have that. I never will have that, and I didn't- the crushing weight of regret, isn't for you, Stiles. You should never know that. And."

Something was almost tearing through him, when Stiles' arms brought him into his chest, burying his face into his shoulder. Derek held on too, breathing Stiles in, before he came undone. They fell to a heap on the ground, tangled into each other, knotting into something that could never come apart. Stiles whispered his apologies, over and over and over again, promising that he wouldn't do anything like that again, that he didn't mean it, never meant it. Derek tried nodding against him, but he sank further into his arms, listening in to his heartbeat, till it found its pace, the one that he could always hear, even when Stiles wasn't there. Derek didn't need to tell Stiles that he was the closest thing to family he'd gotten since his, burned to ashes. And Stiles didn't need to hear it, to know that he'd spend the rest of his life, talking and talking, till it slipped Derek's mind, that Stiles had ever made him feel like he didn't have a family. Like he couldn't possibly understand what it was like, to have one.  


End file.
